


there's no greater thrill (than what you bring to me)

by thelouvres



Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: Eventual Fluff, M/M, Marriage, old-fashioned romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-09 02:27:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19880080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelouvres/pseuds/thelouvres
Summary: he wanted to get close just to, among many other things, know the exact color of his eyes and how they shine under the brightness of the day.or, based on michael and apollonia, somewhere in sicily, mid 50s.





	there's no greater thrill (than what you bring to me)

**i.**

the first time he sees him _,_ eliott’s world literally stops spinning. his feet are touching terra firma but as he was admiring the stanger’s beauty, his legs wavered and his brain couldn’t formulate any other thought other than _it’s him, it’s him, it’s him._

he doesn’t know how it is possible, how the universe conspires so that at some point in our lives all the plans we have built, all of a sudden, no longer hold any relevance because of one extraordinary cause. one that unexpectedly appears without a warning nor motive.

eliott doesn’t even know _his_ name, he just knows that, in every meaning of the phrase, he had fallen in love at first sight.

as usual, eliott had left to walk very early in the morning. aimlessly and without a physical map for guidance, he set out to navigate the yellowish valleys of sicily. 

his only compass was the eyes and experience of his two bodyguards, and even so, before leaving he had told them that he didn’t need to visit the most resplendent places, nor the trendiest, nor the most touristic ones. he just wanted to go where silence would govern, so it’d be enough for him. 

they walked for hours. under the strong rays of the sun, they climbed as many hills they descended. they surrounded a huge and rocky cliff on the seashore. the fresh ocean wind, the sound of the crashing waves and he felt his senses balancing harmoniously in a horizontal line as the salty water moved. 

he closed his eyes. he enjoyed the imperturbability. at last he could calm his thoughts and think of absolutely nothing. his mind went blank. 

finally, he found peace.

new york, his father and this war his family has been struggling with for the past few months. he forgot about all that paraphernalia and thought that there was nothing in the world that could disturb this inner utopia he’s just created.

no one could ever tell but when he walked through the smooth slopes, eliott felt like the most placid man who had ever walked this world. 

however, he only found that here. in sicily, he discovered that there was nothing else that could please him more than nature’s very own significant silence.

that until his eyes took notice on the most ethereal being he has ever seen. 

appeased and with a delightful smile printed on his rich lips, the one who seemed younger, walked while his feet dragged the sand. 

eliott couldn’t do anything other than contemplate him under the shade of the grove full of white flowers and mangoes in its leaves.

only a few meters away, he could see how silky the boy’s hair looked while the wind messed it up slightly.

the white linen shirt he wore did a beauteous contrast to his tanned skin. his sleeves were rolled up and two buttons were opened which gave way to admire how pristine his chest was.

the infinite light of the sun didn’t have room to compete because there was no comparison point even.

he wanted to get close just to, among many other things, know the exact color of his eyes and how they shine under the brightness of the day. 

the young man walked at a slow pace, timidly crossing his feet while without apparent intention, moving his hips so that with each swing, eliott felt he was being pulled by an indescribable force of attraction. 

an old woman, petite and with somewhat a hunched back, interlaced her hand with his and said something that made the boy smile with much intensity. eliott heard the echo of his laughter and it was idyllic. 

it shouldn’t be a big deal and perhaps he was exaggerating but that smile was potent enough to end wars if that was the younger’s desire to do so, or to start them for that matter. 

this town is one of the region’s smallest ones. it has a few inhabitants and among all seem to know each other. their town is a sacred one for its citizens, a safe place. 

in new york city, the élite would try to eat him alive, and his smile, and his innocence, and all the beauty his aura exudes. everyone would long for him. eliott was more than sure, hellenistic wars would be generated in honor of his name in a kingdom full of gamblers, lobbyists and mobsters that would never be deserving of him. 

one of the young women who walked behind him picked up a few grapes from the ground and threw them on the boy’s back.

within the next few minutes, they set out to run and play to chase each other while laughing and seemingly enjoying the time of their lives.

eliott settled down to watch.

 _‘gesù cristo, prendi la mia anima, sto morendo,’_ mariano, one of his bodyguards, sighed hopefully while overpraising the group of young women in front of them. 

after a few minutes both youngsters stopped to take a breath, still naive of the three men looking at them.

the old woman handed the younger one a bag of water. he lifted his head and closed his eyes as he pushed the liquid down his throat, cooling himself. eliott’s groin went semi-hard at that solemn sight. 

his laryngeal prominence was acute, eliott visualized clearly how his adam’s apple went up and down with each swallow. it was almost palpable, and flagrant. eliott’s mouth ridiculously melted, he had to swallow hard at that solemn sight.

‘which one of them has you like that, huh?’ mariano asked. 

‘must be the brunette one, _la donna con il vestito rosso,_ ’ carlo pointed out. 

‘i see her, i see her. _mamma mia, quanta belleza,_ ’ mariano fantasized.

eliott shook his head and discreetly pointed at the boy. ‘not her, _him._ ’

the small group began to move away and eliott felt strangely, _irrationally_ anxious. and disappointed. like if them continuing their journey was never meant to happen.

the old woman interlocked her fingers with the young man’s again and then they turned their backs to leave their way.

eliott couldn’t afford to let him go just like that. 

if it wasn’t because he knows better, he would’ve said it was a simple dazzle that had pushed his nerves to the limit. a lame adrenaline, an insignificant arousal. 

but he knows better. he knows how euphoric his feelings can be. and profound. but never before had he implored so much for someone who he knows nothing about.

he begged for the kid’s eyes to fall on his.

before which god should he bend the knee and manifest such longing? he’d sacrifice anything, that was a doubtless fact. 

_his_ grace had captivated him enough, he needed to know his name or he wouldn’t sleep well that night and the ensuing ones.

he took a step forward. he’d’ve begin to shorten their distance if it wasn’t because a hand stopped him. 

‘better not,’ mariano, without overstepping the bounds of trust, pulled on his wrist. ‘he's a lallemant, his father owns half of the businesses around here. too rich,’ he rubbed his thumb and index, making a gesture of money with his fingers. ‘ _e pericoloso_ ,’ he emphasized.

more dangerous than a demaury? eliott doubted the possibility of it. said lallemant could be the owner of the entire italy, if it was necessary, eliott would plan on using all the political and economical faculties and power his surname carries only to get to know the young man. 

with one decent common sense, knowing his name, nobody would ever stop him. 

after all, at 25, he was not one of the most wanted men by the most powerful and dangerous families that owned half of every single continent for nothing. 

*

the second time he sees him, eliott manages to make steady eye contact. it was a brief few days after the first time —or since eliott had considered asking him to be _his_ right there, in front of everyone, kneeling at his feet, without even knowing the kid’s name. he would have done that, yes—.

they had walked for hours but this time they went not too far from the city. they arrived at the lonely, almost ghostly, central square. in front of the baroque church there was an antique white-stone fountain. eliott hesitates for a second and then leans in, cups his hands and drinks the crystal water from the fountain. 

the bells rang indicating that it was noon already. they stood there for a few minutes to inhale fresh air and rest before heading back to his villa. 

the sun was shining when eliott spotted him. the young man was coming down the stairs of the church with a bamboo basket hanging from his right arm. on his left side, a girl with curly golden hair held his hand. 

he was dressed just like that first time, keeping it simple but just as adonis and dashing. eliott, surprised that fate had managed to play in his favor that afternoon, decided that he would not let this lifetime opportunity to slip from his fingers again.

this time he would ask his name — _and who let you be the most beautiful man who has ever stepped into this earth?_ —. by the time the boy steps on the last stair, eliott has come close enough.

he heard mariano’s desperate whispers, begging him for discretion, asking him what was he thinking, that this didn’t look good because they were in a public place, like if that would ever stop eliott from it.

 _‘sei pazzo, americano!’_ you’re crazy, american, he exclaimed.

eliott disregards him. the kid, astounded, stopped his movements as soon as his gaze fell on eliott’s presence. eliott sees him, now face to face. he looks and appreciates him with utmost detail.

large blue eyes and oval-shaped, rich mouth, lips pink, cheeks a bit flushed, eliott didn’t know if it was the sun’s warmth or because he was penetrating the kid’s eyes with much fervency, analyzing him with no discretion whatsoever. 

and the boy was wearing a little flower with red petals in his ear. how bonny was that. and he’s looking at him, falling for the kid’s blue-grayish pupils, which reminded him of winter, humid forests and the mediterranean. 

they looked at each other for some more time. for a brief moment eliott forgets every single letter of the alphabet. _what was my name again?_

he tried to introduce himself and opened his mouth to make his first greeting but the little girl pulled the boy by the arm, causing him to interrupt their eye contact. 

‘ _fratello, ho sete! ho intenzione di bere acqua,’_ she exclaimed and ran towards the fountain to drink some water. 

‘apollonia _, aspettami! non correre,’_ he exclaimed, walked past eliott and brushed their shoulders slightly, eliott’s heart stopped beating for a solid minute. 

during the motion, the youngest didn’t realize he had accidentally dropped the basket so eliott picked it up. 

‘apollonia, _per favore,_ we'll be home soon and i'll give you clean water. don’t do that again, please?’

he took her in his arms, the little girl’s legs encircled his waist and she hid her now grumpy face in the hollow of the boy’s neck. eliott, looking forward to connect their eyes one more time, subtlety handed him the basket. their fingers inevitably touched and sparks of electricity ran down his spine like wildfire. 

eliott observed the kid’s fingers and loved how delicate they felt. his hand was tender and immaculate. his nails were neat, a natural shine enhanced their soft-pink color. he thought about bringing his lips to the palm of the young man’s hand and leave a trace full of wet, small kisses on each line marked on his glowing skin, but the probability of scaring him off was big. he just needed to control himself, get back to his train of thoughts and show his best self-centered trait.

but god forgive him, this was ridiculous. this was too much. and perhaps he knew that and didn’t care. the young man swallowed and looked up to meet eliott’s eyes. with his brows knitted together and lips parted, for a second, just for a brief one, eliott thinks his eyes are asking him _‘do you feel it?’_

but he only lets out with a low voice, with his softest tone, _‘grazie.’_

and then the boy is taking his basket and turning around, determined to draw himself away.

 _‘come ti chiami?’_ eliott managed to ask but the young man just kept walking, completely ignoring him.

eliott, primarily baffled, thought about what he might’ve done wrong to receive such rejection. and next thing he knows he’s feeling like a sheepish teen, back to those weak self-confidence days. was it possible that he had asked the wrong stuff? he was almost sure but what if instead of asking what his name was, he hinted a ridiculous thing or two, or who knows, something worse. 

perhaps he threw an insult and messed it all up. and— _fucking great_. there goes his golden chance.

‘you look like you’ve been struck by the thunderbolt,’ mariano pointed out as eliott shook his head.

‘he won’t even tell me his name,’ he said feeling defeated —not to mention desperate—, but never taking his eyes from the kid.

mariano and carlo both had confessed they didn’t know his name. they only knew his surname because his family has certain prestige around, but that his father, étienne, doesn’t usually expose his children nor allows them to speak with anyone he doesn’t authorize first.

‘easy, man,’ carlo stated by patting eliott on the shoulder.

‘what do you mean?’ eliott asked and carlo let out a chuckle. 

‘you can’t hide it when you’re hit by the thunderbolt, eh.’

and then, when he thought the boy would disappear from his vision field without giving eliott some last air of hope, leaving him with nothing to hang onto, _nada_ , zero— before turning the corner to the right, the boy swiftly turns around, stops his movements and looks at eliott for the last time that day. 

it was a shy look but exposed curiosity. he revealed _interest_ . and eliott wasn’t sure because it was almost imperceptible, but small dimples formed on his cheeks and it was seraphic, _so_ pure. also, a tiny smile, welcoming and heavenly enough.

 _when you’re hit by the thunderbolt._ so that’s what it means.

‘take me to his father,’ eliott ordered to his two men as soon as the boy finally left.

mariano and carlo both shared worrying looks.

‘you mean now?’ carlo asked.

eliott nodded firmly. ‘right now,’ he stated. 

so, feeling choiceless, that’s exactly what they did. 

*

apparently, from what eliott had heard, étienne was a stubborn man, somewhat conservative but very much loved by his people. 

everyone pays him their utter respect because it is well known that he had bought a lot of business downtown for a large sum of money, helping many villagers out of misery.

 _he’s a honourable man_ , said mariano. _but deeply skeptical when it comes to their children,_ he added.

eliott didn’t know how many lallemant descendants were out there. nevertheless, he was told that two of them were already married living a fairy tale in the most privileged districts of rome. and that, that was the future étienne expected for all of his children. 

he had also been told that étienne had accepted as many suitors he had rejected. but eliott didn’t care. he had one purpose and he felt disposed to get the man’s, with perfect dimples and aphrodisiac features, attention, even if he had to sell his soul to hades himself.

so they took him to étienne’s bar, alright. it was one modest place, neither big nor small, adorned with plants and ferns hanging in the summer-fresh windows. they moved onto one of the white wooden tables situated in the balcony because eliott felt like wanting to enjoy the primaveral breeze. 

he sat down and placed his bag of water on the table. mariano and carlo sat one on each eliott’s side, took off their luparas from their backs and placed them against the wall.

eliott stretched a little and threw his head back. from that angle, he could see the steady huge golden bell on top of the church, and he felt like hearing it ring again because of the most recent prepossessing memory.

an average height man, burly and graying, appeared from the inside next to two tall men. ‘ _ciao,_ mariano!’ the old man greeted cheerfully. mariano stood up and gave him a hug. ‘ _quanto tempo è passato, eh?’_ the old man asks and both of them take a seat. 

four glasses, a bottle of red wine and a small plate of chickpeas are set on the table by étienne’s men. ‘étienne, it’s been a long time, a very long one,’ mariano said. ‘i want you to meet a friend, he’s staying with us for a while,’ mariano introduced eliott, who kindly greeted the old man. 

‘how are you liking sicily so far?’ the older asks.

‘i'm truly enjoying it,’ eliott confessed, his hands resting indifferent on his stomach. ‘my father was born here so i feel kind of committed.’

étienne nodded slowly and analyzed eliott, feeling curious. he made a gesture with his hand in the air and with the other poured the first glass of wine.

‘mariano, you’ve showed him around, haven’t you?’

‘off course i have. he likes to walk a lot, this guy,’ he pointed at eliott. ‘everyday he wakes us up at five in the morning to go for a walk along the coast, _o no,_ carlo?’

carlo nodded and the four men laughed. ‘ _e le donne?_ uh... the women, do you like them enough?’

eliott manifested honest, ‘truly beautiful.’

‘étienne knows all the girls in this town,’ mariano said. ‘we saw some beauties coming down the road and one of them was perfect _, un’opera d’arte._ the one with the red dress, _ricordi,_ carlo?’

 _‘perfetta,’_ carlo affirmed.

‘i know what you mean,’ étienne said between laughs.

‘the hair… black and curly, like a doll,’ mariano continued. ‘and such a mouth she has. she looks more greek than italian. you must know a beauty like that.’

‘beautiful all over, eh?’ he said reflective. ‘i think i do, yeah. she’s santino’s daughter, i believe.’

‘santino’s daughter!?’ mariano screamed and étienne’s laughter resounded throughout the bar. ‘well that’s one hell of a shame, isn’t it?’

‘you better bring a few bottles home with you, my friend. you’ll need them tonight,’ étienne mocked out but eliott let out half a smile. ‘and you? is there any that you like?’

 _finally, what they had came for,_ he thought. eliott straightened his posture, looked directly into étienne’s eyes and positioned his entwined hands on the table. 

‘there’s _someone_ in particular, yes.’

‘there’s— there was this boy hanging out with those same chicks that got our friend uh— um, how do you say it? _lovesick?’_ mariano explained nervously. 

‘really now?’ étienne asks, not smiling much.

‘brunette, he wore a white shirt and a red flower in his hair. i just saw him today leaving the church with a little girl. do you happen to know him?’ eliott asked, playing with fire at this point.

étienne is no longer drinking with them anymore and his smile slowly vanished from his face until he’s wearing a whole scowl. ‘no,’ he denied with a serious tone that made eliott’s men shiver on their seats. 

sharply, the old man got up from the table and walked into the bar, but eliott doesn’t move nor flinch as his two apprehensive men rapidly did. he’s not leaving until he gets what he came for.

‘god in heaven, i think you hit a nerve…’ mariano confessed and follow étienne’s men to the kitchen inside the tavern. loud arguing is heard from the inside and seconds later, eliott’s bodyguard comes back. ‘i told you this wouldn’t work. let’s get out of here, he’s boiling up blood to do us mischief.’

mariano and carlo prepared themselves to leave but eliott stayed still. he addressed mariano with cold authority instead, ‘tell him to come to me,’ he ordered.

his two bodyguards swallowed hard and feeling choiceless again, they shouldered their luparas and disappeared into the bar only to return with a red-faced angry étienne between them some minutes later.

eliott, with his legs crossed, firmly but courtly said, ‘mariano, _tu traduci.’_

‘i know your tongue,’ étienne replied. ‘there’s no need.’

eliott nodded. he comprehends étienne is a family man, from deep-rooted and orthodox principles because he’s received that same education from his father. so by now he should know how to treat these people. not that he doesn’t like them, but they’re different. after all, if there’s something his father and brothers did teach him well was to always negotiate. keep your friends close but your enemies closer, the saying goes.

‘i’m sorry if i’ve offended you by talking about your son. i offer you my apologies. i’m still a stranger in this country and let me say this, i meant no disrespect to you or your son…’ 

‘who are you and what are your intentions with my son?’ 

‘i’m an american hiding in sicily from the police in my country. my name’s eliott demaury. there are people out there who would pay a lot for information like that,’ eliott paused before throwing out a sigh, ‘you can inform the police and make yourself a fortune out of it but then your son would lose a father, instead of gaining a husband.’

and then all eyes are placed solemnly on him. étienne’s bodyguards clenched their waist guns at his threatening statement. both mariano and carlo are stupefied, alarmed. an overwhelming silence loaded the atmosphere but eliott noticed how étienne’s shoulders were slowly distending, as well as his anger, which was a really good sign.

‘so you’re in love with him already?’ 

eliott didn’t respond. those were reserved feelings. but if it was a life or death dispute to confess, then so be it. hell, he could be in love right now. he just knew he needed to see the boy once again to confirm said fact anyways.

‘i want to meet your son. with your permission and supervision. with all decorum and respect,’ eliott said.

after a few seconds of giving it a thought and eliott’s guts being overpowered by tension, étienne finally exposed his final argument. in a formal but proud tone, he said, ‘come to my house sunday morning. it’s the one up there on the hill, next to the sea.’

eliott nodded, feeling very much relaxed. he stood up, gave étienne a sealing handshake and asked. _‘e come si chiama vostro figlio?’_

‘lucas.’ 

_lucas,_ eliott repeats his name with adoration. and then he spends the rest of his afternoon and night whispering the boy’s name in the back of his head until it becomes a part of him. undoubtedly sick, yes. he also dreams of lucas’ blue and bright eyes that night.

**Author's Note:**

> that was a bland italian attempt, i'm sorry in advance. thank you for reading.


End file.
